


yeah I know the shortcut, rather take the long way

by rayguntomyhead



Category: Hancock (2008)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Canon, SO MUCH FLUFF, emotions are hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21844879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayguntomyhead/pseuds/rayguntomyhead
Summary: Ray daydreams a New York that looks a lot like something out of an old Daredevil comic - towers looming over the city like cragged, jaded sentries, impartial to the neon kaleidoscope of chaos churning along below them.Hancock roosts on the tallest, craggiest one of course, brooding as he watches the slow pulsing heartbeat of the city below him. Ready to dive off his perch and into action with the first cry of distress, and there’s probably lots of those in a city like New York. Lots of zooming around, saving people, saving the world. Hopefully with slightly less metaphorical middle fingers to the world. And less alcohol.Ray’s not an idiot though, and one sparkly life-changing month doesn’t justfixpeople.
Relationships: Mary Embrey/Ray Embrey, Mary Embrey/Ray Embrey/John Hancock, Ray Embrey/John Hancock
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	yeah I know the shortcut, rather take the long way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theae/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, theaetetus! Thanks for the chance to play in this fandom, I hope you enjoy.

Ray daydreams a New York that looks a lot like something out of an old Daredevil comic - towers looming over the city like cragged, jaded sentries, impartial to the ever-whirling kaleidoscope of chaos churning along below them.

Hancock roosts on the tallest, craggiest one of course, brooding as he watches the slow pulsing heartbeat of the city below him. Ready to dive off his perch and into action with the first cry of distress, and there’s probably lots of those in a city like New York. Lots of zooming around, saving people, saving the world. Hopefully with slightly less metaphorical middle fingers to the world. And less alcohol.

Ray’s not an idiot though, and one sparkly life-changing month doesn’t just _fix_ people.

He stirs his pot of spaghetti, turns the heat down slightly when the burbling of the sauce spits droplets high enough to sting his hand. He hisses, sucks it off, and then blows on the reddened spot. 

They’re supposed to have the best food in the world, in New York, or at least the best pizzas. Maybe someday Hancock with drop in, right out of the sky, and bring him one. Just to check up and see how he’s doing, maybe even sling one of those big, solid arms around Ray and tell him they have to come visit. Mary’ll take Aaron, and Hancock will take Ray and they’ll fly off to the Big Apple together. Aaron would be on the moon, getting to check out all the real Italian joints, see it all lit up larger than life. 

Or maybe Hancock won’t come back, and he’ll fade out of their memories, out of _Ray’s_ memories, gently, gracefully. Becoming one of those stories to repeat fondly, an unvoiced _what if_ forever at the back of his mind. Until it’s almost like they never even met, except the nights he stares up at the moon.

The oven timer beeps out a cheerful _done!_ and there’s the meatballs. Ray’s got them halfway out when there’s the bang of a door behind him, and a stomping patter of feet barreling in with an accompanying cheerful, “Dad, table’s set!”

Ray starts, nearly lets the edge of the plan slip out of one clumsily oven-gloved hand before catching it on the edge of the rack.

“Right, awesome-sauce,” he says, takes and deep and readjusts his grip. “How about you grab Mary and tell her dinner’s ready?”

Not that she needs to eat. Maybe she doesn’t? With the… everything, Ray had never really asked. Does being immortal mean you don’t _have_ to eat? But dinner’s more than just food, it’s bonding time and anyway she’s always chowed down with the same enthusiasm as the rest of them so what the hell. Bet she’s had some killer food, if she’s really been around as long as all that. And she’s still here, chowing down on his great American Spaghetti Dinner.

What d’ya know.

And yeah, there’s still something unspoken, something pulled tighter than a wirer in his chest when he thinks about Hancock, but he loves Mary too, loves her still. Loves her like a favorite album you listen to over and over that still hold new twists every time you hear it except–

Except Hancock.

Maybe in another universe Hancock stayed, but in this one Hancock left, and anyway. This isn’t mope over the past time, it’s spaghetti and family time, so Ray shakes off the gloom and brings the food to the table.

They chow down in the same casual, homey way they always have, drops of sauce with their oily halos dotting the table around Aaron’s plate from where he’s flung them in his perpetual enthusiasm. It’s almost summer, which only lends more bounces than usual to his monologue about his many upcoming plans.

“An’ then Danny said he was gonna learn swimmin’ this year, ‘cause he’s going to a _sleepaway_ camp, Dad,” Aaron says. “Sleepaway has swimming, and forest stuff like which berries won’t make you die like Aunt Nancy’s dog last year and how to follow stars.”

“Follow stars, huh?” Ray says, hiding his grin in his spaghetti. “Sounds pretty awesome.”

“I told Danny I already knew about stars,” Aaron nods, skinny shoulders squaring with all the wise knowing of a kid who’s sure he’s already figured out what’s what. “From last year at the cabin. With the soldier’s belt and the Dipper and stuff, except they’re all straight up so I don’t know how you’d follow them.”

The cabin. Of course. It’d completely skipped his mind, with… all the everything, but it was almost time for their annual trip. He’d have to call up and make sure that neighbor kid could check on it before they made the trip up there. Not that there had been any problems yet, but it’s not like there was a hotel they could pop into if some rando had vandalized the place, or whatever. 

“What cabin is this, Aaron?” Mary says. Her plates already scraped clean, fork and knife slanted neatly on the side like they always are. She smiling at Aaron with that fond, faintly bemused look she gets around him, and Ray can’t help but think she’ll be a lot more comfortable once Aaron’s about ten more years along. Not that she’s not good with him - she doesn’t treat him like an idiot just because he’s a kid, and she’s always there for all his games and school events. She smart as hell, and her easy competence had saved him while trying to figure out all the shit you don’t realize you need to know when you have a kid. But still. 

“It’s Dad’s cabin, that Grandpa gave him,” Aaron says, wriggling in his chair. “We go up there every year, ’s a family _tradition._ ”

“A tradition,” Mary says gravely, a smile twitching at the corner of her lips. “Sounds pretty important then.”

“We’re going this year, right Dad?” Aaron says, turns those puppy dog eyes of his on Ray. An automatic _of course_ starts to come out his mouth but then he stops because, well. It’s not just the two of them any more, is it. He turns to Mary, lifts an eyebrow and tilts his head. 

Maybe she’s like to get away; maybe she’s had enough of adventures for the time being and wants some peace and quiet at home, and after all she’s been through, all _they’ve_ been through…

“It might be good, to get away for awhile,” Mary says, lifts an eyebrow back. “Take some time without all the neighbors swinging by every five minutes ‘just to make sure we’re okay.’”

Ray smiles at her, a little helplessly, because wouldn’t it though?

She grins back, and then something thoughtful settles in her eyes. “You know, we could invite John.”

And Ray has to gulp his mouthful down before he chokes because _oh._ He… he hadn’t thought it was…

“Are you sure?” he says, but before he can say anything else Aaron breaks in with a happy yell and an “Aw yeah, he can fly me around out there! And we won’t ever get lost if we go on hikes and–“

“Slow down, trooper,” Ray says, reaches out to ruffle Aaron’s hair and _god_ he loves his kid. He glances back at Mary, wills her to understand all the questions in his eyes, all the things he doesn’t want to say out loud.

“‘Course I’m sure,” Mary says. “Or I wouldn’t have said it.”

And it sounds like a dream, really it does, all the people he cares for together, wood fires at night and crisp mountain air, and maybe singing songs. John probably won’t know any of them but he and Aaron can teach him.

“Alright,” Ray says, his mouth tugging up in a grin, and he and Mary will _definitely_ have to have a conversation about this after Aaron’s safely out of hearing but even so. “Alright.” 

It runs through his head though, over and over like a hamster on a treadmill, and he’s an hour in bed still staring up at the splotches in the ceiling paint he can just make out in the dim. Would John even want to come, after all? Ray can still see his face, that grin that started in his eyes, the warm grip on his shoulder and the smell of concrete and sweat that when Ray had buried his face in his shoulder. 

Maybe he was happier, leaving them all behind for a fresh start in New York. Happier to remember them fondly when he looked at the moon, a story to tell his new friends, in his new life.

“You’re not a quiet thinker,” Mary grumbles, and flops over and clumsily slings an arm across his chest.

Shit.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “Can’t sleep,” like that isn’t obvious.

“This is about Hancock, isn’t it,” she says with a groan, and noses again his neck.

“Um,” Ray says. Suppose that wasn’t as hard a leap as it could have been, considering. As much as he doesn’t have a problem talking with people, he’s never been the type that people have stuck around. He’s there when they’re down, and then they just… move on. Bigger and better things and all that.

And it’s fine, it’s okay, really. That’s something he’s good at, making things better, believing in people when they can’t believe in themselves yet, being there.

That’s how it should have been with Hancock. Getting him on his feet, when not one of the complacent jerks he’d been protecting could see past the booze and the smart remarks. Except….

Except. 

“You know, it’s almost enough to make me feel like the other woman,” Mary’s lips move against his throat, curving up into a smile. He stiffens anyway, because _damnit_. That’s not what he– he wasn’t–

“Ray, _relax,”_ Mary says, squeezes his waist. “I’m kidding. Waiting for that banter back about how _you_ should feel like the other woman, with our history.”

“Mary, if there is absolutely anything I have zero doubts about it’s that if you wanted to be with Hancock you would be,” Ray says because really. Yeah, losing immortality, blah, blah, but Mary’s one of the strongest, most headstrong people he’s ever met and if she wants something she’s gonna hold the goddamn world in headlock until it cries uncle.

“Well then,” she says, “wanna let me in on what’s been stewing away in that brain of yours?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, and when she snorts he sucks in a lungful of air and tries to make the tangled knot of cords that is his brain right now make words.

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” he tries.

“No duh,” Mary strokes his side to take the sting out of her words.

“In New York, all alone,” Ray says, like now it’s finally spilling out he can’t make it stop. “We were making something _good_ here, doing something that mattered, as a team, and then he just left and I keep thinking that he should still be here, giving me that look of his and eating spaghetti with us and having someone he can come be with and a place to come home to instead of a bottle and damn _park bench–_ “

He chokes himself off, closes his eyes hard enough to see spots spark behind them and buries his face in Mary’s hair. It smells like wild roses and something not atl all like the soccer mom vibe she likes to exude.

“He’s probably fine,” Ray says, quieter, and doesn’t open his eyes. “It’s ridiculous, he’s probably got new friends, a fresh start.”

Mary’s quiet for a long moment. The low buzz of all the electric appliances hums away in the background, sound swelling up in the silence. Then she says, “Ray you fucking idiot.”

He starts, wrinkling his nose because _excuse me._

 _“_ He carved up the damn moon for you,” she says and stops thumbing at his ribs to slap him gently instead.

That’s… that’s true.

“How about you actually talk with him again instead of brooding all over our bedroom,” she says, “You don’t have the face for brooding, leave it to the Bruce Waynes of the world,” and he makes the most undignified snort-giggle because that’s fair.

“Now sleep,” she says, and with one last firm pat to his side she rolls over, bringing his arm with he as she wriggles back until they’re tucked in a loose comfortable spoon. “Leave Hancock to me, and you can work this… whatever it is out when we get to the cabin. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ray says, tucks himself against the warmth of her body, and closes his eyes. Letting it go. Woosah, deep breaths and focus on the now. Letting it go.

Ray has not let this go. He has not let this go at all.

The smell of pine is sharp in the air, and Hancock stands arm crossed, every dark scruffed, questionably fashion-sensed plus waaay too expensive sneakers clad inch of him. Just that much taller that Ray has to look just that much up to stare into those eyes that stare back at him with a look that’s the definition of inscrutable except he’s here. He’s _here._ There’s something almost giddy bubbling up in his chest and there’s a grin that’s probably way too big stretching up the corners of his mouth. 

“Hancock,” he says, “You came.”

“I did,” Hancock says. “I hope you brought s’mores.” He shifts from one foot to the other, and raises his eyebrows and leans his head forward. “I did not come all the way out to the middle of bumfuck nowhere for some kind of Hallmark movie summer vacation to not have s’mores.”

“We even brought three kinds of chocolate,” Ray says, and before he can overthink it he’s wrapping Hancock up in hug, breathing in the smell of him, the feel of those rock hard muscles unyielding against him as Hancock clearly tries to figure out what to do with all this. Ray lets go before he pushes him too far, and claps a hand on his shoulder. 

“Come in,” he says, “Mary and Aaron are inside, mi casa is su casa, make yourself at home.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hancock grumbles, giving the cabin the gimlet eye as he saunters towards it.. “I’d be a lot more at home if this didn’t make me feel like the real miscast side guy in a horror film. Sure there aren’t any weird ghost stories about here you’ve conveniently forgot to mention?”

“Hancock,” Ray rolls his eyes, that weird happy fizzy feeling still bouncing around in his chest “You’re _invulnerable._ ”

“Uh huh,” Hancock says. “Sure. Tell all those spooky-ass vengeful ghosts that, just in case.”

Obviously the first step after they finish hauling in all the various suitcases and bags of foodstuffs in from the car is to check out the lake. Aaron has Hancock by the hand, dragging him giggling down the well-worn dirt path to the lake in spite of his half-hearted protests. Mary and Ray follow behind, slightly slower. It’s the best sort of early summer day, sun washing warm over their skin, and just enough breeze to take the edge off the rising heat. The lake practically glitters, looking prettier than a picture in a postcard and Ray reaches out to snag Mary’s hand. 

“You good?” he asks. There’s something almost melancholy about her face, and he doesn’t want to pry but he needs to know that she’s still okay with this. 

“I’m fine, you dork,” she says, and wrinkles her nose at him, swinging their joined hands a little harder. “It’s still just… strange.”

With Hancock here, Ray’s sure she means. He can’t even imagine, living a thousand lives with a person, coming together and breaking apart, and then all of that just _gone_ for one of them. One of the only people who could really understand the shit Ray can’t even begin to, and now he can’t really understand either. 

It’s not like they’d had any time to figure it out, after all the chaos that was both of them nearly dying, and then Hancock leaving. He’d almost forgotten, swimming in all his gloom of what ifs that he wasn’t the only one treading water in the same space. 

“Can I-” he starts to say… something, except they’ve finally made it to the shore of the lake and now Aaron’s looking at them expectedly. 

“We gonna go wading now, right? It’s warm enough?” Aaron says. 

“Of course,” Ray says. “We’re on vacation. Wading is practically a requirement.” 

After some convincing and cajoling, Aaron and Ray finally persuade Mary and Hancock to shuck their shoes and join them in the water. Hancock takes it slow, poking suspiciously with his feet at everything underwater before he steps, while Mary just wades out to exactly halfway up her thighs and then stands there. 

Clearly they both need some education in the fine art of enjoying a lake on a summer day. Ray wades his way over to where Aaron is examining some particularly shiny rock and leans down to whisper in his ear. Certain noisy super-powered ears are definitely going to overhear them, but luckily Aaron cottons on quickly enough that their simultaneous splash gets both Hancock and Mary squarely in the front.

Hah. See them try and not have fun now. 

Hancock looks comically shocked for all of three second before scoops up a handful of water and flings it into Ray’s face before he has time to splash away. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Hancock says, stalking forward through the water. “You want war, you’re gonna get war. Mary?” 

Mary’s recovered from her outrage apparently, and moves to stand shoulder to shoulder with Hancock, revenge in her slowly spreading grin. “Prepare to get soaked,” she says, and Ray and Aaron turned to look at each other, then back at Mary and Hancock. In perfect unspoken agreement the two of then start stomp-splashing through the water as fast as they can get back to the shoreline. 

Not fast enough, however, to escape the rain of water from two very determined, superpowered followers. Of course then the only option is to return fire, standing knee deep and trying not to be the first to slip and go completely underwater. 

Ray’s wet clothes cling unpleasantly, and he got water up his nose from one particularly hard splash but he can’t stop grinning - It feels so right, so perfect. Like this is the way the universe is supposed to be, the four of them together, away from the noise and the pressure and a whole city full of people needing help - not for forever, but at least for now.

Lunch is a hodgepodge combination of whatever snack foods had seemed most delicious when they ransacked the local store on the way up - string cheese, and cheese in small rounds, three different kinds of crackers, cartons of early summer strawberries. There’s a salami log or two, along with half a pound of two different lunch meats and a carton of potato salad. All the best kinds of summer-y, picnic-y foods, and all the fresh air and nature to enjoy them in.

“You wanna play cards, Hancock?” Aaron says. He had lost interest in the food much faster than the adults, and all that energy of his has settled somewhat. He offers the pack of colorful playing cards to Hancock, that he must have stuffed into his pocket earlier when they were packing up the food to bring to the picnic table outside. 

“Do I wanna play cards,” Hancock says. “Kid, I’m the _king_ of cards.” 

“No-o,” Aaron beams up at him, “Dad is. He always beats _everyone_.” 

“Oh he does huh,” Hancock cracks his knuckles and gives Ray that look of his. “Bring it on.” 

Well then. Challenge accepted. 

They’re three rounds deep and still amicably roasting each other when Aaron yawns, leans into Ray’s side. Poor kid. He’s been up since the crack of dawn, and hadn’t fallen asleep in the car like they’d thought he would. No wonder he’s yawning. 

“Hey, time for quiet time,” Ray says, gently reaching out to ruffle Aaron’s hair. Kid’s a little old for a nap, but if they’re going to be up late roasting marshmallows he should at least get a little rest in beforehand. Aaron signs and slumps with a hundred and fifty percent more dejection than the situation really deserves. 

“Gotta save up some energy for roasting marshmallows tonight,” Ray adds, hoisting his kid to his feet. “Right, buddy?” 

Aaron nods, with slightly less exaggerated dispiritedness than before. 

“We’ll get the sticks, have everything all ready for when you wake up, okay?” Mary says, then turns to give Ray a look that clearly says that that will be _his_ job which, fair. The whole campfire thing had been his idea and it looks like too that Mary needs a break from all the family time. 

And if needs some help, well, it’s the perfect excuse to finally get to talk to Hancock by himself. 

Ray tilts his head back, lets the last dying rays of sun warm his face. Up here the air doesn’t hold the heat like it does in the city and he’s already starting to chill. Better make sure Aaron’s wrapped up before the get the campfire activities started. He glances over at Hancock, half-heartedly wandering the clearing, picking up clearly distracted by something. The only thing _Hancock_ is wearing right now is a flimsy cotton shirt, not at all bothered by the cold - the lucky bastard. 

“You know, this campfire shit was your idea,” Hancock says, raising an eyebrow. “Gonna help a city boy out with this finding a marshmallow stick business?” 

"I'm savoring the experience," Ray says, raises an eyebrow right back. "Enjoying the fresh air. Listening to the birds chirp. _Savoring_." 

Hancock mutters something vaguely uncomplimentary under his breath about just what thinks of that, but Ray graciously ignores him to kick through the brush until a suitable stick turns up. 

“Here, like this, see?” Ray picks it off, shaking it until the bits of forest detritus fall off. “Not too big to fit the marshmallow on, not too flimsy to break. Just right.”

“Uh huh,” Hancock squints at it for a moment, and then just. _Jumps_ into the air, up into the trees and before Ray can blink twice he’s back on solid ground with what is very clearly three freshly broken tree branches. All, of course, of exactly the right size.

“Cheater,” Ray says, grins and shakes his head even as he makes a grabby motion for Hancock to hand them over. 

“Hey I’m just using some of those strategic planning skills you always seem so keen on,” Hancock says as he saunters over. 

“Except for maybe my plan was to have some time with you to myself without little pitchers with big ears around,” Ray says. “Hear how you’re really doing.” 

“You know,” Hancock says, and something in his voice is almost too nonchalant. “Saving people than pissing them off. Same old, same old.” 

Something in Ray’s chest sinks, even as that terrible part of him he doesn’t want to exist cheers quietly at the fact Hancock hasn’t found a wonderful new city to replace it. He firmly tells that part to shut up. He wants Hancock to be happy; people should love him, people should be ecstatic that they have someone like him in their lives. 

“Aren’t people in New York supposed to be rude?” Ray says. “I figured they would like that sort of thing.”

“Turns out you seem to be the only one who likes that sort of thing,” Hancock says, stepping close enough Ray can feel the heat coming off of him. “The only one who keeps coming back for more.”

Ray stares into those sharp, dark eyes, feels his heart kicking up in his chest. Hancock’s staring back, and there’s something in his face, like he’s about to say something he can’t take back and no. No. Ray steps back, drops his hands back down to his side. 

“Let’s get going,” he says, squeezes the sticks hard enough enough the rough bits dig sharply into his hand. “They’re waiting for us.”

The fire snaps and crackles, branches cracking in two and joining the glowing coals at the bottom of the fire pit as it finally settles into a comfortable burn. Conked out in the oversized camping chair, Aaron’s mouth hangs open, smeared with chocolate with his marshmallow roasting stick still clutched tight in sticky fingers.

Mary’s tucked against Ray’s side, her fingers completely sugar-free. Aaron had convinced her to try her one obligatory s’more, and then she’d laughingly declined the rest. 

Hancock, one the other hand, had chowed down on an entire bag of marshmallows - most of which had been burnt to a crisp before being squished between two bars of chocolate and eaten straight like that. Clearly all that whiskey must have dulled his taste buds because _obviously_ the graham cracker tied the whole taste profile together.

’S funny too. He’d started out on the other side of the fire, closer to Aaron but as the stars came out, bright and fierce and blazing and the chill wind turned chiller he’s somehow managed to inch his way closer and closer to Hancock. He’s close enough to touch now, and Ray just wants to close that extra inch between them, pull him in closer until they’re all three of them sprawled and tangled together and that’s not… 

Hancock’s leans back on his elbows, propping himself there for a moment before seemingly giving up and letting himself sprawl back to stare at the stars.

“You seem like the kind of guy who would know all the constellations and shit,” he says, voice rough and playful. “C’mon, tell me some.”

Against Ray’s side Mary snorts.

“Like you weren’t practically the one to name half of them,” she says, and waves a finger at the black drape of sky above them. “Such stupid stories too, I can’t believe half the shit you got away with just because you could zip around with some flashy theatrics so everyone took your word as gospel.”

“Fuck you,” Hancock protests, but his tone is mellow. “Pick on the guy who can’t remember shit.”

“Want me to jog your memory?” Mary leans halfway over Ray to raise an eyebrow at Hancock and his mouth opens in what is definitely some snarky rejoinder but it’s late and the fire is warm and Ray is crashing off a sugar high.

“Kids,” Ray says, slumping sideways until he can lean his head back on the chair behind him.

“You do realize your girlfriend is so much older than you she’s practically a cradle robber,” Hancock says.

“Maybe I go for cougars, you don’t know,” Ray says, lets his head loll to the side so he can grin at Hancock, watch the light flicker on his face as he gives Hancock that particular look he saves just for Ray.

“Or maybe you just happened to fall in with grumpy, overpowered and ancient and kept rolling with it,” Hancock says.

He’s leaning in closer now too, somehow a foot closer, so Ray pokes him with a finger. Hancock retaliates but before it can turn into an all out war, Mary clears her throat.

“Yeah, he clearly kept rolling with it, and then rolling with it again” she says, something playing and almost flirtatious in her tone. Ray cocks his head, because that almost sounded like… it can’t be what it sounded like? He doesn’t think? Except then she adds, “You know, you two should just kiss already,”, all casual, and she almost sounds amused. 

Ray opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again because.. what? Hancock’s frozen, with a look like he’s just downed a Pan-Galatic Gargleblaster and hasn’t gotten to the recovery part yet, which is about how Ray imagines he looks too. 

Mary’s smirking at them now, calm as a cat that got the cream as she adds, “You really think this is the first time we’re shared?”

What. Ray is so unpacking that one later. But now, Hancock’s licking his lips, so close, and something in the air, or the silence, in Mary’s face and Hancock’s…

Maybe they all really want this. 

Hey y’know, what the hell. 

Ray closes the distance between them, press cold lips to Hancock’s and _oh._ It’s uncoordinated, and soft, and enough to make his heart freeze in its giddy spin because he’s kissing _Hancock._ He’s _kissing_ him and after a long moment Hancock makes a rough sound in his throat, grabs a handful of Ray’s jacket and hauls him closer.

Mary purrs, an approving sound he can hear distantly through the roaring in his ears. She drapes herself over his shoulder, breathing hot against the side of his head. and he’s still kissing Hancock, over and over, like he’s gotta make up for every kiss he’s wanted to share since he stared up into that scruffy haggard face, adrenaline shooting through his veins and hands trembling and so very gloriously, unexpectedly alive.

Then Mary’s cupping his face, lips covering his for a long drawn out moment before she turns to Hancock and pulls him in for one too. When they break apart, Ray’s head is spinning, because this must be some summertime dream but it isn’t, it _isn’t_.

“This time you better learn to share, asshole,” Mary says, poking Hancock’s shoulder.

“Woman, you’re the one who’s been hogging him this whole goddamn time,” Hancock says affronted, reproachful as a cat who’s been pushed off the counter, and Ray giggles because of course, of _course_ , and there’s all here, together, sandwiching him between the warmth of them as they start up a amicable bickering.

And maybe there’s a universe out there where things turned out more perfect than this. Maybe there’s a lot where they turned out worse. But maybe, maybe, it’s doesn’t matter; maybe all he’s ever wanted, is in this one.

  
  



End file.
